


Heroes Through the Ages

by roadworkaheaduhyeahisurehopeitdoes



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (the heroes not the stories), Angst, Astrid (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim), Beyond Skyrim: Bruma, Chapel of Saint Martin (Beyond Skyrim: Bruma), Cyrodiil, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dark Brotherhood Questline, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Shots, Physical hurt/comfort, Vampirism, im always sad about the db, im soft for martin, no beta we die like men, oblivion vampirism SUCKS, praying, they're all related >:)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23226508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadworkaheaduhyeahisurehopeitdoes/pseuds/roadworkaheaduhyeahisurehopeitdoes
Summary: A collection of short stories following my PCs of Oblivion and Skyrim
Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim
Kudos: 14





	1. The Chapel of Saint Martin (Qinrest)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here is a quick guide to my chracters:  
> Qinrest Xiuk- Dragonborn (Dunmer archer/one-handed swords)  
> Therynrey Xiuk- Hero of Kvatch (Dunmer dagger/one-handed swords)  
> yes they're related. I also have another, Reylcas Xiuk, from ESO, but I only had that for a weekend when it was free so i dont know anything about it still  
> Therynrey was lost to time (purposefully took himself out of it) because of illegal guild involvement  
> Enjoy!

“Saint Septim,” Qinrest’s voice rung out in the empty chapel. He cringed back in the pew. “I- ah- don’t know how to start this. Saint Septim- Martin? Can I call you Martin? Yeah. Uh, I guess, I’ve come here to pray. Obviously.” Qinrest cursed himself. It had been a very long time since he had prayed, having long lost belief that the Nine could do anything for him. But when he saw the Chapel of St. Martin on his first visit to Bruma, he had felt something. He didn’t know what, exactly, just a twinge in his chest. The same twinge he had felt slaying Alduin, the same one he had felt rushing to the Sanctuary after killing the false emperor, the same one he had felt soaring on Sahrotaar in Apocrypha, the same one he had felt drowning in Irkngthand. A sense of belonging and fate and meaning. Eventually, he had meandered over to the chapel in the early hours of the morning, leaving Serana in their room.

“Right. Martin, have you ever felt… overwhelmed? By your fate?” Qinrest had read the history books. Martin Septim, lost bastard son of Uriel Septim, had become an avatar of Akatosh and stopped the oblivion crisis. Before that, though, he had been a simple priest, living in Weynon Priory. The mysterious Champion of Cyrodiil had taken him to Cloud Ruler Temple, which if Qinrest squinted hard enough into the snow, he could just see the ruins of. Not much was known about the Champion, except various rumors from different parts of the land that they had been an assassin, a thief, or a mage. The Champion always had interested Qinrest, that such an influential figure could be lost to history.

“I guess you did. It’s a lot, to go from a priest to an emperor to an avatar of a god.” He paused, looking up at the stained glass windows. “Shit, did I insult you? I didn’t mean it. It just feels better to know that someone else who’s life was completely created for them didn’t like it. Not that I don’t like being the Dragonborn. It’s ok. It sometimes just feels like I have no say in my life. That’s why I joined the theives’ guild. And the Dark Brotherhood. I wanted control over what happened, how I was remembered. And then I got too deep,” Qinrests’ voice trailed off. He didn’t like thinking about the Dark Brotherhood. That was still an open wound, even six months later. “Never mind.”

There was silence for a moment. “The Champion of Cyrodiil- you were friends with them, right? What were they like?” There was no response. Figures. “Well, Martin, good night. See you? Is that what you say to a saint?” Before there could be an answer, Qinrest jumped out of his seat and ran back to the Jerall View.

The next morning, he didn’t remember much of his dream, just flashes of a Dunmer man that looked oddly similar to him and a name, burning gold. Therynrey Xiuk.


	2. The searing bright (Therynrey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short thing I wrote at like 2 am with theyrn and martin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: descriptions of pain and burning

"I will continue to go through the Mysterium Xarxes in search of information. In the meantime, I believe Jauffre wanted a word with you." Martin looked up. "I know these are troubling times, Therynrey. We must have hope."

Therynrey looked Martin in the eye. "Yes, we must." He stood up, leaning on the table. Looking closer at Martin, he saw dark circles around his eyes and the way he slumped back in his chair. "And Martin? Do try to get some rest."

Martin looked up and smiled tiredly. "I will." 

Therynrey started towards the door. There were too many things he needed to do. Talking with Jauffre, getting another contract, scraping together enough money to not starve to death, so on and so forth. He pushed open the heavy door without thinking.

As soon as he stepped out into the sunlight, a bolt of fiery pain tore through his body. He shouted and fell to his knees, gasping. _What the fuck._ It felt like his body was burning up, his skin and bones being scattered as ash. The pain didn't let up, and he sunk down farther, groaning. It seemed continuous and blinding, and his vision slowly started to fade to white. Everything was blurry. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but burn. The brightness embraced him, and he embraced it back. There was nothing. 

Then there was something. Two arms, wrapped around his chest, pulling him up and in. Soft words and soft hands reassuring him.

"Therynrey, Therynrey, are you alright?" It was Martin. He sat him down on the bench, leaning him against a pillar. 

Therynrey looked up blearily at Martin. "Yeah-" His voice broke. "Yes, I'm alright." 

Martin was frantic. There were no blades around, and the hall was deserted. "What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know. I just- went outside- and it burned," Therynrey replied. "Everything got white and hot, and I was burning up." 

Martin quietly cursed. He breathed in. "Therynrey, I need to heal you." His cheeks tinged red. "I need to- ah- touch you?" 

Therynrey flushed and nodded.

Martin cupped Therynrey's face with his hands, closing his eyes. He looked almost divine, head tilted up, quietly chanting. Golden energy poured from his hands, infusing itself into Therynrey's skin. Healing magic was usually warm, but this was a cool, welcome relief. He sighed, slumping back. He was suddenly very exhausted. Just as he started to drift off, he thought he felt a hand brushing a hair from his face, and a soft kiss on his forehead. He could have been imagining it, but he slept with a smile.


	3. Sanctuary (Qinrest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qinrest makes a visit to the Falkreath Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: burned, bloody bodies

Sometimes, Qinrest goes back to the sanctuary. He tries to avoid it, most of the time, but every once in a while he'll find Shadowmere trotting down the familiar forest path towards the abandoned cave. Today is one of those days. He doesn't think about much as he travels, ignoring the wolves that nip at his feet. When he gets there, he doesn't notice, just gets of Shadowmere slowly and looks at the small pond. It glimmers in the morning light, the fog that rises up from it thicker than usual. He sits down and pulls his eyes to the tree. Festus is there, of course, pinned to the tree with too many arrows. He always is. It doesn't cushion the hard punch to Qinrest's chest every time he sees a fallen family member. He stares at the blood spattered on the ground, at Festus' gaunt and unmoving face, still turned down in a scowl. After what feels like an eternity, he finally gets up and makes his way to the Black Door.

With a small smile, he traces the outline of Sithis, and the Night Mother. _Silence, my brother_. It all feels so long ago. He pushes it open and enters. The sanctuary is remains oddly intact. Astrid's daggers are still in the large map on her desk, some rotting food is laying where Nazir used to sit. It's almost the same, except for the bodies. They're everywhere. Not only his fallen family, but their attackers, too. Qinrest makes sure to kick every body of the Penticulus Oculatus out of the way. 

He eventually finds his way to Astrid. Even now, seeing her shakes him. She was once confident, powerful, and commanding. Now here she lays, a burnt corpse, barely recognizable. He sits and stares. Should he be mad at her? Probably, but he can't bring himself to be. He knows what it's like to be caught up in your own pride, to feel the need to control every situation. She was just an unfortunate placement for the Dark Brotherhood. Things could have been different, he knows. If Cicero had arrived a little earlier. If whatever tragedy he had read about that struck down the Brotherhood all those years ago was avoided. But it didn't, and he, Nazir, and Babette paid the consequences. 

He walked up to Astrid, one last time. Crouching next to her, he says, "May you walk in the shadow of Sithis." He gets up and exits. It's a long time before he returns to the Falkreath Sanctuary.


	4. Hope dangling by a string (Therynrey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> therynrey is Not Okay  
> content warnings: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, mentions of murdering your found family, depression and self-hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaHAHA oKay i wrote this at like 3 am so its s o b a d.  
> i am definitely big projecting onto therynrey so like. health 100 i guess coping mechanisms  
> title of this chapter is from gone, gone, gone by phillip phillips wich is like. vry hok/martin listen to it  
> ALSO i know this isn’t what happens after miscarcand but. i don’t care

Therynrey felt as if he had been running on pure adrenaline and willpower for the last three days. He wiped his face with his hand, forging on through Miscarcand. He hated it here, with the Ayleid ruin's emptiness and high ceilings. It made him feel so alone, like he was floating in the middle of an ocean with nothing around him.

There was a terrible sound from around the corner, like flesh squelching against stone. A zombie. Without thinking, Therynrey thrust his Akaviri katana forward, sinking it into the soft, rotting, flesh. It felt just like a real person. Just like the blade had felt like sinking into Vicente, and Telaendril, and Antointetta, and- stop. Therynrey grabbed his head in his hands, scratching at his skin. It had been three days since he had killed his family. He hadn't eaten or slept since then, and had very little to drink.

Every time he thought about sneaking through the sanctuary, silently killing each one of his siblings with techniques they taught him, the final fight in the training room, or leaving like nothing had happened, he wanted to rip his skin off and slowly die. He deserved it. He wanted it. He planned on it. He would already be dead, if not for Lucien's missions and Martin's request. Well, Lucien could very well assume he had been killed in the line of duty, but Martin knew better. Martin would go looking for him, try to go to Miscarcand himself. Martin would die, and Therynrey couldn't let that happen. So here he was, making one final stand. It wasn't even an interesting ruin. He felt a bitter resentment growing towards the Ayleids and the gods-damned maze-like architecture. Who did they think they were, divines? It wasn't like Therynrey spent his free time reading about the Ayleids, but he felt like they were definitely assholes. Oh gods, he was losing it.

He sunk against the wall, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the blood and grime. _What had he come to? _Therynrey Xiuk did not just… break down. He always kept going.

Allowing himself no more rest, he forged on through the rest of Miscarcand, mindlessly solving puzzles and killing zombies and goblins. He eventually was able to get the great welkynd stone and leave that horrible ruin, not even flinching as the sun seared his skin and blurred his vision. He started the journey to Cloud Ruler Temple with emptiness weighing down inside him, almost as vast and horrible as the void.

.

It was thankfully evening as he stumbled up the steps of Cloud Ruler. There were a couple of blades milling about, and Therynrey could see Jauffre handing out orders on the outer wall. He dragged himself into the main hall, dizzy, nauseous, dehydrated, and exhausted.

Martin looked up as soon as he entered, lips turning up in a small smile that quickly became a frown of concern when he saw Therynrey's state. "Theryn- what happened?" He got up, carefully bookmarking what he was reading.

Therynrey grunted and pulled out the great welkynd stone. "I got it." His hand shook as he held the stone out to Martin.

Martin took it, clasping his hand around the others. He flinched when he felt how cold it was. "Are you all right? Please, tell me the truth." He looked up and saw fear in the dunmer's fiery red eyes.

Therynrey was waging a war with himself. He so desperately wanted to tell Martin everything, to sob and curl up in his arms. On the other hand, he absolutely could not. He didn't deserve Martin, who was too good for this world. Even Martin, with the soul of a saint, couldn't forgive him now. "Yes, I'm fine. Please, Martin, leave it. The journey was a bit tough." Therynrey suddenly realized this was the last time he would see him. He took a second to admire the way that the imperial's hands worried his robe, the soft fall of his hair over his face, and the furrow in his brow. Nothing to lose now. He took a step forward, head reeling. "You know I love you, right?"

Martin was silent and still on the outside. On the inside, though, he was quite the opposite. It couldn't be. Why would Therynrey love him? He was just… a priest. A priest in an unfortunate situation. It wasn't as if Martin hadn't caught himself staring at Therynrey when the read together, or turning over all of their conversations in the small hours of the night. It wasn't as if Martin didn't wholeheartedly love him back. It wasn't as of Martin wouldn't give up everything for Therynrey. "I… love you too. Therynrey, I love you." It felt like a revelation, spoken aloud.

Therynrey was utterly shocked. Martin wasn't suppose to love him back. His declaration had been one bad decision in a series of them. This would be his last. "Goodbye, Martin. Save the world for me." He turned to leave, almost falling to the ground as his vision filled with white. He caught himself and ran toward the door.

"Wait! Where are you going? I'll see you again, right?" Martin started to walk after him.

Therynrey turned to look at him, pushing open the door. A small, sad smile played over his lips. "No." He left.

.

Outside, the wind was harsh, pelting snow and ice against Therynrey as he made his way to the wall surrounding the temple. It was dinner by now, and one lone sentry stood on an outpost. Perfect. Therynrey walked to the side of the wall and looked down. It was a far drop down, onto ice and rocks. He took a second to feel the wonderful whip of the wind and chill in his bones, smiling into the storm. Then, he pulled himself up onto the wall and stood, looking down.

Things could have been different, he knew. Maybe, if he hadn't killed that beggar, or if he had joined another sanctuary, or if the traitor would come clean. Things could have been different, but they weren't. He took a breath, preparing himself. It was so easy. Just jump. It was just like walking forward. He hung a foot down, and a wave of dizziness of nausea hit him so hard and cried out and almost doubled over. Weak. Screwing his eyes shut and breathing heavily, he put his foot back out.

"Theryn!" Martin's voice called out behind him, and two strong, steady hands grasped him. "Therynrey, what are you doing? Get down."

Therynrey ripped himself out of Martin's grasp and whipped his head around. His flame-red eyes were wild, black hair whipping in the wind. "Go away," he snarled.

"No. You are in danger. I can't let that happen. Please, get down," Martin said, voice shaky.

"No." The word was final and steady.

Martin sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, and it was the last thing Therynrey heard before he blacked out.

.

When he slowly came back to consciousness, he was laying on a bed in a sparse room. There was an impenetrable chill in the air, and he could hardly feel his fingers. He groaned. Where was he? Why? He had his own bed in the sanctuary-

He screamed as the events of the past three days came rushing back to him. Martin must have- he groaned, pulling his head into his arms and rocking back and forth. Why did Martin spare him? Couldn't he see the darkness that had overcome Therynrey? Where was he?

The door slammed open and Martin rushed towards Therynrey. "What happened? Are you hurt?" He was frantic, shutting the door behind him and reaching out towards the dunmer.

Therynrey slowly stopped rocking and released his head. He was exhausted, starving, dehydrated, and almost too weak to say anything. He did manage it, his voice coming out as barely more than a rasping whisper. "No."

"Good." Martin sat beside him. "Do you mind if I…" he gestured towards Therynrey, who shook his head. Martin brushed a lock of black-blue hair behind an ear. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Therynrey thought for a second. "Yes," he decided. "I- I was-" He choked on his words, acid rising in throat as he thought about the purification. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Whenever you're ready," Martin said. He put his arm around Therynrey's shoulders, slowly rubbing his arm.

Therynrey really didn't want to relax into the gentle touch, but he couldn't help it. He turned around and buried his head in Martin's chest and cried. He sobbed until he couldn't, until there was no water left in him and then a little more. Martin didn't push him off, just ran his hands through the dunmer's hair and whispered soft reassurements. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, until Therynrey fell asleep, breathing softly and looking calm. Martin smiled at him and lay down next to Therynrey with his arms wrapped around him. "I love you," he murmured.


	5. Blessings of akatosh upon you (Qinrest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qinrest visits the chapel of st. septim and has an unexpected encounter  
> content warnings: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha another 3 am fic. fuck me for real

There was a sickening squelch as Qinrest stabbed the length of Incendium through the bandit's body, thrusting the now limp imperial of of the ebony blade and letting him fall. He sheathed his swords and adjusted Nahkriin, panting. Serana walked up behind him, extinguishing her spells.

"That the last one?" she asked, nudging the fallen outlaw with her boot.

"I hope so, because the next time I see a gods-damned bandit, I'm going to slice their throat then my own. We've been in here for what, five hours? Let's get going," Qinrest snarled.

Serana rolled her eyes and reached down to pick up the coin pouch that had fallen off the bandit's body. "Alright, relax. At least it wasn't 400 years."

Qinrest glared at her. "You use that every time."

Serana smiled back brightly. "It works every time." She clapped her hands briskly, and the bandit's body, now wreathed in blue energy, rose to her command.

Qinrest mumbled something not very nice about Serana and dead bodies, then climbed the ladder out of the caverns and into the burning Bruma sunlight.

"It has the audacity to be painfully bright and not even warm," he grumbled as Serana climbed out of the hatch after him.

"I agree. Let's fucking book it."

Qinrest mounted Shadowmere and started riding towards Bruma, and Serana ran behind him. How kind he was.

.

"Qinrest! Hold fucking still or I'm going to leave your goddamn wound to fester with infection!" Serana snapped, pressing a freezing cold cloth against a large gash in his back.

Qinrest squirmed. Even after being in Skyrim for over a year, he was still more sensitive to the cold than most. "Might be a better option than having you cast frostbite on my back. You're going to give me hypothermia. Dunmer are more sensitive to cold."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it. Now, if you don't stop squirming like a child who needs to take a piss, I'll cast paralyze on you," Serana said through gritted teeth. Why the fuck did she travel with him, anyway? He had no practical medical knowledge and was terrible at getting his wounds dressed.

Qinrest sighed and grabbed onto his wedding band as Serana pressed the cloth into his back again. He always carried it with him but almost never wore it, he didn't want it to get ruined in battle. Romlyn would kill him, if this back wound didn't first. He was most likely sharpening the knife now. Qinrest hadn't been home in a month and a half, and Sofie and Runa were probably pestering their dada daily with questions of "Where's abba?". Like Romlyn knew. Qinrest almost never told anyone where he went, why he disappeared for days on end, and why he occasionally came back with daedric artifacts, elder scrolls, or glowing red eyes.

"There we go," Serana said as she wrapped a bandage around his torso. "We are not going out tomorrow.-" she glared at him as he tried to interrupt. "-I will tell Adius that you had some bad injuries. Maybe he'll even stop by, who knows." She got up and began putting away the medical supplies. "Go to sleep."

"Ah-," Qinrest interjected.

Serana fixed her ember eyes on him. "I don't want to fucking hear it. In bed. Now."

Qinrest rolled his eyes, put on his shirt, and moved to the bed. He got under the covers, then looked at Serana. "I'm in bed."

Serana huffed. "You actually have to sleep, asshole. Move over." She got in the bed next to him. It was usual for them to share a bed whenever they traveled together. It wasn't awkward, Serana was his best friend and was almost like a sister to him. She dispelled the magelight keeping the room lit, then closed her eyes and turned away from Qinrest.

Qinrest lay awake, bouncing his leg. He couldn't go to sleep. His back hurt to much and his mind was sharp and awake. After about an hour of laying there, he finally got up. He pulled on his boots quietly and grabbed Incendium from the table. Making sure Serana was asleep, he crept out of the room.

It was blustery and snowy outside, ice pelting against Qinrest as he made his way to the chapel of St. Martin. He didn't really know why he was going there. It wasn't like Martin could help him, he was dead, and his last visit had ended with nothing but a frustrating shred of a dream. Therynrey Xiuk. Who was he? Qinrest was smart enough to assume that the mysterious dunmer was the Champion, but there had been nothing on him in any bookshop Qinrest visited. It was as if he was just… gone. Erased from history. Qinrest wouldn't give up yet. "Maybe I'll get another goddamn dream," he muttered as he pushed open the heavy door to the chapel.

Inside, it was empty, all the candles put out and the priests in their quarters. The air was warm and dry, thankfully, and seemed to dance with shadows as Qinrest cast Candlelight. He made his way to the front pew, steps echoing softly in the tall room. He sat back stiffly on the seat.

"Martin. St. Martin," he began, then faltered. "I don't why I'm here. Just couldn't sleep, I guess." He paused, letting the silence ring in his ears. "I can't find anything on the Champion. Therynrey, I think. It's as if he's gone." Qinrest took a second to turn what he had over in his mind. It wasn't much. "Maybe I'm too obsessed with them. It doesn't really matter, does it? It happened, it's over, everyone's moved on." He sunk his head down, covering it with his arm. "But it does." He sat in silence for a full minute.

"I think you're right. It does matter," a deep, warm voice said.

Qinrests' head snapped up. Perched on the edge of the offering stand sat a blue ghost. It was a young man with shoulder-length hair wearing a simple priest's robe. He gazed at Qinrest with a small smile playing on his lips. "Who are you?" Qinrest hissed, hand at his blade.

The man looked at him levelly. "You know who I am."

He did. Martin Septim, son of the emperor Uriel Septim, avatar of Akatosh, and the last of the Septim bloodline. He had seen hundreds of paintings of him, albeit not in a ghostly form. "Martin Spetim," Qinrest breathed.

Martin looked amused. "Yes. I am Martin Septim. And you are Qinrest Xiuk."

Qinrest narrowed his eyes. "How do you know my name?"

"I have my ways." He smiled, not unkindly. "You have been searching after the Champion of Cyrodiil, as many have. It's so odd how they were just wiped out of everyone's memory, isn't it?"

"Yes," Qinrest said carefully.

"The power of divine magic really is something. Theryn?" Martin looked to the side, and another ghost materialized next to him. He was a dunmer, with long hair and a striking resemblance to Qinrest. He took hold of Martin's translucent hand and rested his head on his shoulder.

"Hello, Qinrest." His voice had a slight lilt to it, one that Qinrest recognized from the dunmer on Solstheim. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Qinrest narrowed his eyes. "Who the fuck are you?"

The mer smiled. "That is another question I think you know the answer to." His wasn't harsh, but soft and welcoming.

"You're Therynrey. Therynrey Xiuk." He paused. "Are you the champion of Cyrodiil?"

Therynrey let out a long, wistful sigh. "That, among other titles. The Gray Fox. The Hero of Kvatch." He looked Qinrest right in the eyes. "Listener."

Qinrest froze. "Listener? Like of the Dark Brotherhood?"

Therynrey sighed again and closed his eyes, burying his head further into Martin's shoulder. "Yes. I was Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, after I became a Silencer. When I saw you join the Dark Brotherhood, I prayed you would not make the same mistakes I did. But loyalty is a virtue, is it not?" He bitterly laughed a humorless chuckle.

Qinrest flinched. He would not let the swriling pit of guilt and memories threatening to rise up in his mind distract him from the fact that the last Septim emperor and the Champion of Cyrodiil's ghosts were talking to him. He quickly changed the subject. "Why are you here?"

"We are here, dragonborn, to help you," Martin said. "You have always helped others, putting your life in danger to do tasks for others. It is high time someone helped you."

Martin and Therynrey got up and walked towards him. Martin, looking for all the world like the saint he was, placed his hands upon Qinrest's head. The glowing hands were cool to the touch, but completely solid. Martin closed his eyes and quietly chanted. About a minute later, Qinrest felt a flowing tide of cool energy flow through him. It was refreshing, setting a tranquil blanket over him. He shivered. "Thank you, St. Martin."

Martin smiled. "You may call me Martin. You have before."

Qinrest flushed. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Therynrey walked over to him. 

"Qinrest," he said, eyes brimming with pride. "I so very proud to have you as my progeny. You continue to amaze me, with every quest you complete. Here, take this." He drew a intricately carved katana from his hip. "This sword has served me well my whole life. I do not know if it can compare to your magnificent swords, but please take it as a reminder that Xiuks do not back down." 

Qinrest smiled and took it. It was translucent and blue, just like the two figures before him, and was extremely light. "Thank you very much. I will remember."

Martin look at him. "We cannot stay here long, so we must go. You are strong, Qinrest. Keep your head up." With that, he took Therynrey's hand and the duo dissapated. Qinrest suddenly felt much lighter, and very tired. He left the chapel with a smile on his face and hummed the short walk back to the Jerall View. When he quietly got back into bed, Serana sat up. 

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Xiuk," She said, giving him an accusatory look.

Qinrest turned over. "It's not like I was cheating on you," he said. 

"Fuck you," Serana muttered, but turned around and went back to sleep. They both had a deep, dreamless sleep unlike either had gotten in a while.


	6. Something old, something new (Qinrest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short drabble about Qinrest's swords. it's pretty light, no content warnings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey whats up. i havent posted in a full ass month. anyway ill probably post more soon

Qinrest grazed his thumb over Incendium's intricate carvings and sighed. It was a good sword, sharp and fiery. He remembered enchanting it, taking the plain ebony blade he had found in a dungeon and forging it into something new, a harsh, unforgiving longsword that burned to the touch, and turned enemies to embers. The blade itself was beautiful, a dark, voidlike black that seemed to absorb all light. Its thin blade was wreathed in motes of fire, lighting up Qinrest's sharp features. It had served him well, but all swords have their time. He would miss it.

Laying it carefully on the bed, Qinrest drew Dawnbreaker. He had owned Meridia's blade for longer than Incendium, the heavy gold achingly familiar in his hand. He had sure fucking earned Dawnbreaker, getting from Meridia's stupid fetch quest into her old ruin. Lydia had died, and the daedra hadn't even apologized. He sighed and twirled the blade around. Lydia had been really annoying, anyway. It was shorter than Incendium, and more symmetrical. The mote of sunlight in the hilt lit up the room and heated his hand. 

Finally, with one last final sigh, he placed the swords on a plaque above his bed. They beautifully contrasted, with Dawnbreaker's soft gold glow and Incedium's hard black one. 

He drew his new swords. Acheron and Styx, matching daedric blades that held power more than most could imagine. They would serve him well, he knew. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @leo-nid-as or on instagram @leo__nid_as  
> thanks for reading! if you have any requests leave a comment or dm me!


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